Out of habit, I reached for the tether. The frigid void remained. I had not realized how often Ifelthim: warmth at my shoulder, a second pulse beneath my own. I drew my knees up to my chest and let the sunlight pool over my face.
Another knock.
“You may enter,” I called.
A man stumbled through, enveloped by the largest bouquet I had ever seen. The garden of blooms devoured his torso, leaving only a mop of brown hair and two flushed cheeks visible above the riot of color. He staggered to the nearest table and deposited his burden. The wood groaned in response.
“Deliveries from His Majesty,” he panted.
From the depths of his coat, he produced a letter and a small, wrapped box. He placed them on the table with a bow and departed.
The envelope read, in a dramatic scrawl I knew too well:
Quinnie.
I loathed the nickname, always had. The wax cracked beneath my thumb as I unfolded the parchment.
My dearest Quinnie,
You have my deepest apologies for how last night unfolded between us. It is not how I envisioned our first joining, and I assure you, there will be far more tenderness to come. In the box is a token of my devotionto our future. There shall be no further distractions. It’s only you and me now.
Your king, and tonight, your husband,
Edric
Joining?I was not sure whether laughter or vomiting was the more appropriate response.
One line stood out to me, spreading ice through my limbs.“There shall be no further distractions. It’s only you and me now.”
What was his meaning?
I traded the letter for the small, velvet box, narrowing my eyes. Pretty things were rarely harmless. I did not believe this one to be any different. Perhaps Edric meant to litter me with jewels as part of his groveling. I slid the golden ribbon off and lifted the lid.
A smaller note lay atop a folded handkerchief.
Another message from Edric.
I hope one day you’ll understand why this was necessary and find it in your heart to forgive me.
The wordnecessaryrang in my ears, first a whisper, then a shriek.What would I need to forgive him for that could possibly be housed in such a small box?
Setting the note aside, I unfolded the handkerchief.
Breath left me and refused to return.
Beneath it lay a lock of hair.
A rich, chestnut brown. I knew it well. I had twined it around my fingers, smoothed it back from his brow, buried my face in it on nights when sleep felt like an enemy I could not fight. Saints, I could find Mav in a group of a thousand men by his hair alone.
Yet, here it was presented as a favor.
A keepsake.
Aprize.
My vision tunneled to that single wave. Clarity struck, swift and cruel. Ice flooded my veins. The air thickened to syrup.
No.
